As The Truth was Told
by kei-angelus
Summary: Because both the diagnostician and the oncologist had their own thoughts when the truth was finally said. This is my version of House's and Wilson's thoughts in the last scene of episode 18 of Season 8. "Body and Soul".
1. House

**Author's Note : Hi there :) I have finished this show (except for the Swan Song episode which I planned to watch after I post this story) and WOW. Though I actually wish for something more for the ending, still, it was cool :D Feel free to give your opinion for the finale when you give this a review :)  
** **Anyway, this is what my mind has produced after watching "Body and Soul". I wrote this story in both of House's and Wilson's POV. The first chapter will be House's and the second will be Wilson's. Hope this ones are good :)  
** **Thanks to Rachel Messer & Unyil Mingming who have read this story first for me! **

**Disclaimer : House,M.D. belongs to David Shore & FOX.**

It was raining and I assumed that Wilson was still in his office. That was confirmed by his car being in the parking lot. I felt a little bit relieved that at last, he would be listening to what I was going to rant. I went straightly to his office and barged in as usual.

I didn't expect not seeing him behind his desk, but he was leaning on his drawer. Our eyes met for several seconds, but we both refused to say anything. Relieved that he was actually there, I closed the door and started my rant. "Adams defied me. There's one more zealot in the world," I paused. "And Dominika moved out," I said as I was sitting down on his couch."She was fun. She was hot. She fixed my blender." I was sure that he had already gotten what I was trying to imply here, but since he hadn't said anything, I continued, " _That_ is not a metaphor. You know any good fake divorce lawyers? I am surprisingly depressed by this." I finally finish my rant, with a sentence that I didn't even know if it was true or not.

"I have cancer," he finally said after a few seconds.

Of course I didn't believe that. I gave him a hint of smirk as I let out my response and continued tapping my fingers. My _stupid_ response.

"You were little short with me the other day. You _do_ need an excuse. Cancer may have overplaying it," I finished the words with a big tap on the couch.

"Stage two thymoma."

The realization that he wasn't joking hit me when I heard that. I forgot everything I had said about Dominika. I forgot the real reason I had come here in the first place.

"I didn't wanna tell you until I had it confirmed. I got the test back this morning."

 _What? No. No!_

That was why he had been avoiding me all day. That might have been the one he _never_ wanted to talk to me about.

"I have cancer, House."

And I could only stared at him in disbelief as he stared at the rain. I should have noticed his lack of response when I had barged in to his office just now. I should have noticed how he had refused to see me in the eyes just now. I had thought he was just tired—and been ready to annoy him by asking him for a boys night.

I was just hoping an usual me-whining and he-annoyed routine we had gotten used to. I had thought that he would have given me his usual advice that I secretly actually listened to, though I always pretended not to.

Cancer. Wasn't it ironic that he was an oncologist? My head was doing the only thing it could. It analyzed every possibility. It analyzed exactly how this happened. I had noticed that he had gotten thinner a bit, but I had thought it was only because of his ridiculous diet. Though I knew exactly how cancer could grow in basically anyone, I still wished that it hadn't been true. I still wished that it wasn't him. I almost wanted to ask him to show me his results—in case they had been wrong. But I didn't. Because I was afraid to see the _fact_.

I would yell to everyone about anyone else's result, but not his. Because I didn't want people to remind me that my best friend was dying. The fact itself hurts.

Stage two meant that it was already late for a surgery—if only it hadn't, I would be willing to do it myself. And I couldn't help calculating the chance that he would survive. Without seeing the size of the tumor, there might have been seventy percent chance that he would survive. Ten percent chance of a patient's recovery would tempt me to take the one tenth chance. But this thirty percent chance of failure terrified me. Because it was _him_. It was my best friend who I'd thought would never be leaving me.

After seconds of thinking that had felt like hours, I could finally move my legs to stand up and started to limp forward, leaving his office. And if— _if_ he had tried to stop me, which fortunately he didn't, I would have told him to shut up. Because I didn't know what to say anymore. I didn't know what to _feel_. I didn't know if I was more pissed or betrayed or _destroyed_ by the news.

Because the only person I thought would never leave me, finally had the chance to actually leave me _alone_.


	2. Wilson

**Author's Note : Hello! Thanks for everyone who read and reviewed :D! Special thanks to visitkarte & Nyokiee for reviewing every House fanfic I posted :) For Axe10gas, since you reviewed as guest, thanks for the reviews :)  
** **As I promised, this is from Wilson's POV. I hope you can enjoy it as much as the first chapter. As usual, let me know how you think about it :)  
For this chapter, special thanks to Amanda Lc, who had given me suggestion about how Wilson might have thought :)**

 **Disclaimer : House, M.D. belongs to David Shore & FOX.**

"House, I have cancer," I had stupidly practiced the line, in case House really wanted to chase me down in this rainy day—which actually would be a rare case, considering the hard rain.

As if a speaking of a devil, my fear came true when the door of my office opened. He barged in to my office. I almost cursed when our eyes finally met. I hadn't been sitting on my desk because of this insecurity. And I had wished he wouldn't have noticed me—though it had been stupid for him to not see me. I couldn't concentrate on his words when he ranted something about Adams and Dominika. I just waited for him to finish his whining when he said, "I am surprisingly depressed by this."

And it hit me.

 _Would it be okay if I tell you the truth?_ I had thought. _Will_ this _depressed you, too?_

 _ **If you die, I'm alone.**_

And those words popped up again in my head. His own words. The ones I knew he had been honest. The ones I knew he had said sincerely. But I had been sure about the operation that time. And now, I couldn't be sure about _anything_.

I had tried to form another words just to make it sound better.

 _House, I am sick. But don't worry, there're chances that I'll recover._

I had tried to find something lighter.

 _Well, House, I need to tell you something. I did a full body scan and they found a tumor in my chest._

I had tried to find something he could make a joke from.

 _You know, I know I'm an oncologist, but apparently, cancer loves me so much that it decided to stay in my thymus gland._

I had tried to find something that wouldn't be too truthful to him—although all he couldn't do was not knowing.

 _House, I am— Oh, cut it out._

I had tried to find a _lie_. But instead, those simple-plain- _bare_ words were the only ones coming out from my mouth.

"I have cancer," I finally said.

Then there was a short pause.

I could see the change in his eyes. I just knew that unbelieving eyes. "You were little short with me the other do need an excuse. Cancer may have overplaying it." Of course he didn't believe it—I swore I had seen him smirking just now. Or did he not want to believe it? Was he trying to find a lie, too?

 _The only excuse that I need is that I am afraid to tell you, House._

"Stage two thymoma." Again, only the bare words, only presenting the most important facts.

I saw his face changed from his usual-arrogant-childish-face to his rarely-shown-serious-face. He finally realized that nothing I had said was a joke.

" I didn't wanna tell you until I had it confirmed. I got the test back this morning."

 _And that is why I had been avoiding you all day_ , I wanted to gave him my excuse. But I knew that he already found out. I knew that face. His face when he connected one symptom to another. This time, my avoiding him was the only symptom had been available.

I turned my face away and looked outside the window, refusing to look at his shocked face much longer. As if I still needed his confirmation, as if I wanted him to say that the diagnosis was wrong, I said it one more time.

"I have cancer, House."

And I still could feel his eyes on me for some long seconds, until he looked away to stare at the door in front of him.

Now all we could hear was only the sound of the rain crashing on the window. This silence was killing me. I wanted him to say something. I wanted him to be honest and say anything that was on his mind. I even wanted him to throw some sarcastic joke he usually said. I wanted us to pretend that it was all jokes. But instead, without saying any word, he stood up and leave. He limped away without even seeing me again.

And I just couldn't help wondering what this really meant for him. What _I_ really meant for him. And how should I have known? There was one in a hundred chance that he would be telling the truth and one in a thousand chance that he would be _willing_ to talk about feelings. But deep inside, I somehow always knew that he really cared. Just like when Foreman and Chase's lives had been in threat, or when they had found Cuddy's apparently-benign-tumor. Maybe- _maybe_ he had left just because this news had actually hit him hard. Maybe he was actually pissed. He might have actually felt betrayed by the fact that the cancer had betrayed _me_. Could it be that he was _devastated_ by the truth?

And I couldn't get my feet to step forward to chase him—although I would have the advantage. I couldn't get my mouth to call him, to say if he was okay-though it should be _him_ who asked _me_. I could only stare at his leaving until he impatiently went into the elevator and disappeared from my sight. I could only wonder what he thought about this. How he _felt_ about this.

And I couldn't help wondering : _Am I gonna leave him alone?_


End file.
